Where the Heart Is
by Pierides
Summary: Did you ever feel like you didn't belong? She stood in the doorway, people spoke, and she should have been comfortable there, but all she could think about was running, all she could think about was him. Obvious Jon/Pam


_(A/N): My Beautiful Ending, you asked for it. You got it! Here's a Bruce/Pam/Jonathan one-shot as requested! Enjoy and the rest of you enjoy too. The prompt was #49, "Grace" from livejournal's 50scene community._

Disclaimer: I said I own the plot, I never said I owned the characters. If they don't like it, they can write their own, assuming Arkham left them any pencils or gave them computer access.

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The restaurant was beautiful, lacquered walls, the smell of delicious pasta and meats. It was filled with the loud, chatter of people. It was an atmosphere that normally made Pamela Isley comfortable, but not tonight. She stood in the entrance to the place, staring at the servers and at the man attending the front desk, offering her a kind smile. She returned it, but didn't feel it. She didn't want to be here.

Suddenly the place was too loud, the food didn't pique her appetite, and the walls were too perfect. A large, unsettling weight nestled like a rock in her stomach. It was a feeling of deception, guilt that she couldn't place, or perhaps didn't want to admit, but it was becoming more and more of a challenge to not think about it. She felt out of place here, like she didn't belong.

She felt like a puzzle piece a child was trying vainly to fit into the wrong slot. This wasn't her image to complete, and she knew it intrinsically.

She grasped her black clutch tightly in one hand and ran the other through her hair. Her eyes flickered over the restaurant again. She couldn't see her date, maybe he hadn't seen her. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she flashed an apologetic gaze to the room and pivoted on her black, strappy heels.

She retreated back into the brisk, spring evening. The sky was stained a vibrant rouge-orange, which highlighted Pamela's fiery hair and her copper dress. She didn't look back, just continued to walk down the sidewalk. She really hoped she could get away without being stopped. If she was, she'd have to explain, and she wasn't sure what she could say. She pursed her lips.

What was she doing? Her steps slowed just slightly; she'd been hastily walking away before. She was standing up Bruce Wayne, the most eligible bachelor in Gotham City. She'd been going out with him for more than week, but recently she felt out of sorts. They'd met at a fund-raising event hosted by the University, and he'd taken an interest in her. She was single, and what woman didn't want to be treated to dinner? But every time she went out with him, she felt out of sorts. She wasn't attracted to Bruce Wayne, she was just leading him on, and that wasn't respectful to him. Yet it was more than just that.

Over the past few days, being with him in public, made her miss the solitude of her apartment flat. Her home was cozy, decorated to her tastes, and loud not in the chatter of strangers, but her friends. Well, strike that, it was loud with the memories of her colleague, Dr. Jonathan Crane. That caused her to freeze completely, right in the middle of the sidewalk. Her body went tense.

Jonathan Crane had joined the staff of Gotham University over six months ago, subsequent to his release from Arkham Asylum following rehabilitation. She'd been one of the first friends he'd made, and they'd been close ever since. She remembered Friday nights prior to her courting by Bruce when she would invite him over and they'd be nerds and watch episodes of Criminal Minds, Bones, or any detective show they'd come across first. She had a big screen television that had a better picture and—according to Jonathan—her spinach dip was delicious.

The food had been cheap. Chips and dip, popcorn, maybe left-overs from dinner. Soda, maybe some beer or wine coolers. It was friendly, non-formal, and comfortable. She didn't have to dress to impress. Jonathan had seen at her worst in big t-shirts and sweat pants and at her best wearing dresses akin to the kimono-style one she was donning now. Suddenly she missed those nights.

Jonathan had, of course, understood that the first month of a relationship was the most defining. He had told her that they could catch up and have their "friend's" night more often after the newness of the dating wore off between Bruce and her. Suddenly, Pamela hoped that maybe his disappointment and awkward forgiving of her cancellation of their TV night was more than just the loss of something to do on Fridays. She didn't miss having relaxing home time, she missed Jonathan. Plain and simple, she missed getting to spend time with him.

He was a wonderful listener, thrown in with their commentary and criticism of the crime shows they watched together, they had conversations. Sometimes light, sometimes deep, nonsensical and intellectual. It had taken a little to get him to open up and rope him into weekly meeting, but once she had achieved that privilege it was almost as if he blossomed like the plants she so diligently cared for. Gone was the cold, brooding, Jonathan Crane with the "mightier than thou" attitude and in his place was a man who was slowly being accepted for himself and enjoyed every minute of not having to censor himself.

How come she hadn't realized it before? Before Bruce, before now? She had blossomed too, really shown her true colors to Jonathan and had never thought about it. She tore open her clutch and pulled her phone out. It was only six o'clock, plenty of time.

She dialed Jonathan's number easily, and held it to her ear. With every repeat of the dial tone, her heart sped up a notch. The doubt that he might not answer nagged at her mind every second it wasn't picked up.

"_Pamela, are you alright?"_

She took a deep breath, realizing she'd been holding it in a mixture of anticipation and fear. She missed that voice over the phone, even though she heard it everyday at lunch in his office.

"_Pam?"_

"Oh, sorry, Jon," she laughed easily, "I was just expecting it to roll to voice mail after a while. You scared me."

His chuckle soothed her anxiety slightly, but not enough. She clutched the phone and started walking again.

"_I apologize. Do you need anything?"_

She felt like a teenaged-girl, she was in her early thirties, though heaven's sake. She needed to maintain control,"Actually, I was wondering if you had any plans tonight. I'm sorry this is a little last minute."

"_I thought you had plans with Mr. Wayne," _was that relief or joy she heard in his voice?

She shook her head and then gave a nervous laugh, "Well, funny that...uh...not anymore."

"_Did he dump you, that would explain why you seem a little out of character."_

Damn him and his psychological intuition, of course he'd pick up on it. "Not exactly, so are you free?"

She heard him inhale into the phone as if in a combination relief and intrigue, _"Yes, I'm free."_

"Your place or mine?" Her heart swelled in elation.

"_That certainly depends. Where are you? I hear traffic."_

She had made it to her car by then. "I'm on the corner of Ninth and Sullivan. I just made it to my car, so you better hurry up."

"_Mine. You're practically already here."_

She knew he'd say that. She opened the driver door and climbed in. She threw her clutch into the passenger seat. "Alright, I'm on my way, see you in less than ten, Jon."

"_I'll unlock the door and be waiting for you."_

"Have you eaten yet?" She asked and started her car.

"Actually, I was just thinking about going out when you called."

Pamela fastened her seat belt, "Do you still want to? I'm still dressed up and everything, and for Jonathan Crane, dressing up is certainly an easy routine." She glanced in her mirrors as he laughed and pulled out into the street, starting towards his apartment building.

"_You think it'll be that easy, huh?"_

She snorted, "I do, Jonny, I do. You can't deny it. I'll see you soon."

"_I'll freshen up then. It might take a while, I have to do my hair and my make-up...not to mention my nails."_

Pamela laughed as he joked, "Alright, Kitten, you do that. Get all nice and pretty so we can flaunt you around town." She shut the phone and placed it in a cup holder. She shook her head, chuckling to herself. He had come a long way. She recalled his awkwardness during the beginning of their first conversations and how it took days for him to grow comfortable enough to seek her out on his own. She knew he'd been waiting for the day she'd stop talking to him and push him away. There were no words that described the feeling she had that he trusted her enough to think she'd never betray him—or so she hoped. She never wanted to turn on him.

This was her first step in proving just how much she cared for him. If only she'd realized it sooner; it would have saved her from making Bruce feel used, and her from feeling awful.

Her cellphone buzzed and she gingerly, both in fear of who it was and of crashing grabbed it. Her heart immediately sank, but she flipped it open—she'd have had to face him eventually.

"Hello," she answered guiltily.

"_Are you running late, Pam? I can reschedule the reservations."_

Bruce. His voice was innocent, totally unaware. She cringed. "That won't be necessary," she paused, wondering how she could phrase it. How could she say it? Bruce must have realized that the silence was weighted as he said nothing. "There's someone else," she laid it out plainly, "and I didn't realize it until today."

"_Someone else?"_ His voice was neutral, but Pamela nodded to herself. Jonathan's apartment complex now stood before her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you. You're a wonderful guy, Bruce, I can't lead you on. I'm sorry this is sudden, but I have to follow my heart. Please forgive me." She flipped her phone close and then immediately turned it off completely. He would forgive her, but at the moment she was still forgiving herself. She pulled into the parking garage and for a moment, after the car was stationary she just sat there.

What was she doing, exactly? What if nothing came of this? Yet, what if something did? She couldn't let a chance go without even trying. She couldn't be scared. Everything happened for a reason, and this belief allowed her to take a deep breath. She gathered a ball of courage, opened her door, and entered the garage. She could do this, and she would.

Minutes later, she was wondering where all her courage had gone. She stared at Jonathan's door, Apartment 237, and hesitantly knocked. She was okay, she hadn't just dumped Bruce Wayne and come over here in a frenzy to confess that she was quite possibly in love with Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow, the ex-Master of Fear. She wrung her hands; she didn't care about a past. She wasn't sure what she was afraid of.

Then the door opened and she stared into his blue eyes. He wasn't wearing his glasses. It was then she knew what frightened her. She didn't want to see those eyes harden in rejection. Yet they weren't hard at the moment, they were widened.

"Pamela are you alright?"

She felt pulled from a trance. He stared at her worriedly.

She flashed him a smile, but was weary, not genuine, "I'm fine, Jon."

His mouth pursed softly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he crossed his arms across his chest. He shook his head, "Don't lie to me," his arms unfolded and took her shoulders, "I know you're not." He guided her into the apartment.

"No, Jonny, really, I'm-"

His stare made her sigh and she gave up. "Are you going to sit down, or should I steer you there?" He asked and she moved to his couch, and fell there heavily. This certainly wasn't how she saw this going. She was terrified and she felt bad that she'd just let Bruce down only to come here, but if the moment was presented she had to take it, she couldn't be sure she'd ever be able to say if she didn't now.

So why wasn't she saying anything? She watched Jonathan take a seat beside her and turn his body towards her. He was basically dressed to go out. He was just missing a blazer. She could tell him during dinner, she couldn't ruin his plans just because she was confused.

"I'm just hungry, Jon. C'mon, we can talk during dinner."

"No, we can't," he shook his head firmly, "I just opened my door to see you standing there looking lost and scared. Did Bruce hurt you in anyway?"

She shook her head, laughing softly, "No, Bruce didn't hurt me."

"Then what's wrong? Don't worry about dinner, I'm more concerned about you. You didn't sound right on the phone and you just look so confused." The genuine caring seeped through his voice. She smiled and felt her uncertainty morph into tears that began to gather in her eyes. She was going to just blurt out and tell him something he wasn't expecting at all. He was going to wonder where in the world it had suddenly sprung from because out of all the things she could say, he'd not be expecting what her heart wanted to her tell him, and the feeling that had seized her like a riptide.

"I dumped Bruce," she stared at a spot on the wall behind his head.

"You dumped Bruce," he was shocked, "did he do anything to deserve it?"

"No, I just did it."

"Why?" He had reigned in his surprise. He was going to listen to her; Jonathan didn't prematurely judge those he was friends with. She shook her head and felt her frame quiver.

"I don't know," she whispered and made herself meet his eyes. "I walked into the door of the restaurant and stared in. It smelled wonderful in there, it was beautiful. But I didn't feel like I should be there. The conversations were suddenly too loud. I'd been feeling out of tilt for a while, ever since I started dating Bruce. I felt like there was a stone in my stomach. It was wrong. I don't expect you to really follow it, but I just knew Bruce wasn't it, and I think I've known it from the beginning, but I was lying to myself. Do you know that feeling? Just intrinsically knowing you weren't meant to be somewhere?"

She saw his gaze soften, "So you felt nothing for Bruce?"

"No, I didn't and today I realized that. I walked from the restaurant and called you. I need help with something, Jon. I need advice." She stated and for the moment her nervousness lessened. She could work with this.

"What how to truly break up with him?"

She laughed, releasing some of her pent-up anxiety, "No, I already did that. I told him, there was someone else. That's what I need to know, Jon." She saw his gaze once again go confused. "I've never been afraid to tell someone how I feel. Normally I just jump right in, but this guy...I'm terrified to tell him how I feel, what if he rejects me. Jonathan, you're a guy and I trust you, tell me what I should do. I want to tell him, but I don't know how."

A flash of hurt flickered in his eyes. Her heart twittered as his face quickly stiffened slightly before relaxing. Maybe there was hope after all. He gave a soft smile. "I'm glad that you trust me enough to ask. Well...I would like to hear what first caught your attention about me, then what kept it. I would like to know what like about me. Guys just want to know we're wanted."

"So do girls," Pamela nodded, but her heart was steadily picking up speed. "I would want to hear the exact same thing. You know, Jon, it sounds like you have girl on your mind. You have someone too? You should follow your own advice, you know, and tell her."

He nodded, "I know." He stared into her eyes. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah, but I can say something to you first?" He faltered a little at her request, but nodded. She could see that he was scared, but he was hiding it well. He didn't want to be hurt, and neither did she, but if her gut was telling her right, they wouldn't be. She took a deep breath, and her cheeks burned.

Her heart was in her throat and she stared down at her hands she began, "I walked out that restaurant because a little more than six months ago, a new professor came to Gotham University. He was famous, but it was a negative fame. Of course, his name caught my attention, but when I really looked at him, do you know what I saw?" She finally looked at him, and her lips quirked at the disbelief he had etched on his face. "I saw a guy who often pushed away before he was pushed. I wanted to be his friend to prove to him that not everyone would drop him, laugh at him, that mistakes could be fixed and most of all forgiven. He looked like he could smile and even though it was cautious, when you finally smiled, Jon, I thought you should more often.

"You're very intelligent, but you don't mind acting silly around me anymore. You trust me and yourself and it makes me feel accomplished that you feel that way. I like your brain, Jon, I like your smile, I like your eyes, I like that you watch action-filled TV shows with me. I walked out of that restaurant because Bruce wasn't you and I realized how much I missed getting to spend time with you. I missed the understanding you had of me. Jonathan, you understand me, accept me, and know more about me than anyone I've ever known. And what's scary is, I let you in, and didn't even realize it. I think I've loved you for almost six months, but my mind just didn't want to understand something so simple. It thought love was far more complicated." At the end she bit her bottom lip—a habit she had when she was nervous and looked away.

There. She'd done it. Her whole soul was bared right in front of her. Her confession lingered on the air. She shut her eyes just as she felt the couch move. She felt his fingers trail from her cheek, the skin tingling in their wake. He gently cupped her chin and pulled her head up, but she didn't open her eyes until he paused. One moment the warmth of his hand was the only contact they had, yet the minute she opened her eyes his lips brushed hers.

She gasped, blood rushing to her cheeks, and met his gaze. She smiled coyly at the small smile on his face. He removed his palm and placed it on the couch, right beside her head.

"Your tenacity intrigued me," he told her. "You gained my notice when you approached me. I couldn't believe that anyone would voluntarily talk to me, but you did and even though I didn't come to you, you came to me until I started to seek you out as well. You were the first friend I'd had in the years after I first was taken to Arkham as a patient. You listened to me and never gave up, you offered me your friendship, invited me over. How could I not be attracted to such a woman. Beauty, brains, and a quirky attitude that just seemed to compliment me so well. You settled in my heart long before I realized it myself. You love me?"

He leaned forward and she did too, lips so close. "I do."

His lips whispered against hers, "I love you too, Pamela." And he kissed her again, with more conviction. She threaded her arms around his neck and her fingers delved into the hair at the nape of his neck. She felt his arms curl around her midriff, bringing him closer. She angled her head when he pulled back slightly to breathe and then kissed him, lips parting in invitation for him. He sighed, a content sound, and took the lead, bringing her into a gentle waltz with him

Seconds bled into minutes, and Pamela wasn't sure how long they'd been on his couch, but when the daze finally cleared, she was curled on the ivory fabric, lounging comfortably on Jonathan's chest. She felt warm, and thoroughly, kissed—definitely thoroughly kissed. She laughed softly.

"What's so amusing?" Jonathan murmured, sounding as content as she did. His hand was running along her side. She twisted and lied on her stomach atop his chest to face him.

"We just made out like a bunch of teenagers." She confided to him like it was a big, juicy secret. He laughed.

"Think we moved too quickly?"

She shook her head, "No, the way I see, we've been due a kiss for months." Jonathan hummed in agreement and touched her cheek. She tilted her head into the touch and leaned up to kiss him once again chastely. "I know a Chinese place that delivers. Want to order take out?"

He reached into his pocket for his phone and then handed it to her. She took it with a smile and dialed the number. Once she had finished giving the order she hung up and returned it to him. He placed the phone behind him on a table that set beside the couch.

"How long?"

"Twenty minutes." She replied.

He smirked and gently pulled her closer. He kissed her cheek, "That's plenty of time."

She tilted her head, "Plenty of time for what?" She had no sooner asked that, than he wrapped his arms around her and flipped them over and crouched above her. She squealed and laughed as she stared up at him as he grinned above her.

"Plenty of time to make-out like teenagers again." And he took her lips passionately, but gently.


End file.
